


Stranger comes to town

by von_gikkingen



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, Imperial Officers (Star Wars), Morak, POV Original Female Character, What-If, post chapter 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gikkingen/pseuds/von_gikkingen
Summary: “Do you know how it happened? The refinery explosion?”“Sabotage. No one local, there was a ship leaving the planet a few hours back. Didn’t look New Republic so maybe someone who had a personal vendetta to enact. Does it matter? They did us all a favour, whoever they were. I intend to drink to their health all night, kid,” I wink.“Yeah, whoever they were, they left one behind. We think,” he adds quickly, seeing the way my eyes narrow on hearing that. “Look there’s this guy. Strolled into town maybe two hours back. And we still have no idea where he came from.”
Relationships: Migs Mayfeld & Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

“So you heard about the refinery blowing up, right?”

As far as ways of opening a conversation go that is one that truly deserves an eyeroll. Because yes, I _did_ hear. _Everyone heard_. Explosions, as a rule, were quite loud things.

“Why do you think I’m headed to town?” I say meaningfully. The kid immediately catching my meaning and meeting my words with a grin.

“Oh I told grandma you’ll be headed our way. Imps having a lousy time is always a reason to celebrate, right? But, see, that’s why she sent me to get to you before you make it to the cantina.”

“Sent you to intercept me,” I comment, not entirely sure I liked the sound of that. “Why? What am I walking into?”

“Nothing bad. No imps strolling into town to harass us,” says the kid quickly. “They’ll not be leaving their base for a good long time, I don’t think. They’ll be busy rebuilding, right? If they even can.”

I utter a dry chuckle at hearing that. He doesn’t sound exactly hopeful, but at least he’s acknowledging it’s a possibility, however unlikely. Definitely a sign these people weren’t completely beaten down by living in the shadow of the local imperial remnant.

“Okay so if it’s not imps being a nuisance, what is it...? What was so important that I couldn’t have found out when I got to town?”

“Do you know how it happened? The refinery explosion?”

“Sabotage. No one local, there was a ship leaving the planet a few hours back. Didn’t look New Republic so maybe someone who had a personal vendetta to enact. Does it matter? They did us all a favour, whoever they were. I intend to drink to their health all night, kid,” I wink.

“Yeah, whoever they were, they left one behind. We _think_ ,” he adds quickly, seeing the way my eyes narrow on hearing that. “Look there’s this guy. Strolled into town maybe two hours back. And we still have no idea where he came from.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” shrugs the boy. “I mean... he does talk a lot. Just... never actually bothers answering anything you ask him. That’s why they sent me to fetch you. Grandma thinks you might be able to get something out of him.”

“What, because it takes one to know one?”

He says nothing. Doesn’t insult me by trying to convince me the thought never occurred to him, which I appreciate. It’s not that unreasonable assumption, that this mysterious stranger of theirs may have been wandering the back roads of Morak wondering what his carrier options were now that the imperial army thing didn’t work out...

Which wasn’t exactly how things went for me but, yes, I would have an edge on a local when it came to identifying someone who served on the same side. “Did he say he had anything to do with the explosion?” I ask the kid even as I quicken my pace.

“Not exactly. He keeps dropping hints but he never admits anything outright.”

I just nod, still less than sure about what to expect. I’m definitely glad for the spectacular fireworks that rose from the refinery earlier and happy to make the acquaintance of anyone who played any role in it. Then again I have to wonder what exactly was the story here. Because whoever was on that ship, they must have known what they were leaving behind. That the place was in a bad shape but by no means destroyed. And to leave one of their number on a planet that might soon be crawling with understandably pissed off imps, that seemed... strange, to say the least.

Which just made me all the more eager to reach town and get the story straight from the source. “Keep up, kid,” I call over my shoulder, even as I catch a first sight of the lights of the roadside town.

“Oh, and grandma also told me to tell you not to be too.... con... spicuous,” he says slowly, struggling with the unfamiliar word.

“She is a wise woman, your grandma” I say, even as I’m loosening the scarf I wear only to spare people having to look at my burns, worst of which ran down my throat and shoulder. “She knows how much I enjoy being told what to do...”

The kid takes a second but he does get it. He finds it plenty funny, too. “So you’re gonna...”

“Make an entrance? Oh yeah,” I smirk. Stripping off my shirt even as I never slow my pace. Because it would make this easier to let the stranger know who I was right away. Which the sight of the burns I suffered when my convoy was destroyed was going to do – without me needing to waste any time on introductions.

The boy’s grandmother knew as much, that’s why she sent him to talk to me. Smart lady. Kind one, too, but she didn't take risks as a rule. Not on people who might be more trouble than they were worth.

Stuffing my shirt into the bag hanging off my shoulder I pass the first house, a flimsy construction of spare metal partially overgrown with the jungle foliage. I tug at my clingy tanktop, finding I’m not exactly comfortable wearing nothing over it. Still I resist hiding the evidence of the day I decided I had my fill of working for the Empire under more clothing. I could manage this. Share the story told by my ruined skin with whoever waits in the cantina across the road. It really was the smartest way of going about this...

“I was wondering when you’ll show, girl,” says the elderly woman with a smile hidden among a mass of wrinkles the second I step over the threshold. Going out of her way to pretend she haven’t heard the the sound of shattering glass...

Me, I just about manage to suppress a smile as I glance at the man who dropped his glass the second he saw me. Reacting to what he realized I must be, or so the startled expression on his face tells me.

Between the dozens of half-melted vehicles littering the roadsides and the way I look it’s hard not to guess the story here. And it must seem really damn strange to someone who may have just showed up on Morak to understand the pleasant welcome I got from the natives, what with me being not too long ago one of the people plundering their world for all the resources that could have been torn out of the ground.

Good. That made him as curious about me as everyone in the room was about him...

“You didn’t have anything to do with that explosion, did you, ‘Nix?” asks one of the local men cheerfully before I make it two steps past the door.

“You know I wouldn’t waste ammo on imps. I know them to be perfectly capable of blowing themselves up without any help from me,” I reply tonelessly, risking a quick glance at the newcomer who’s yet to get over the shock of my appearance and sigh before changing my direction and head for his table rather than the bar. “May I?” I ask, trying my best to sound civil even as he continues to openly stare at me, eyes running over my scarred neck. 

“I, ah... yeah, sure. Take a seat.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I look around the room quickly, feeling too many eyes on me, all watching with badly disguised expectations. “I think this is when I pay for your next drink. Since I cost you the last one,” I say, glancing at the glass shards lying on the table between us. He opens his mouth to reply but I quickly raise my hand in a gesture that lets him know I’m not done talking. “And _that_ will be my quota of civilized behaviour for the day. After that it’s anyone’s guess. I might start asking questions. Impolite, personal questions. I might even insist on getting actual answer instead of whatever evasive half-truths you’ve been feeding my friends so far.”

Several emotions show on his face, there and gone in a quick succession. “But I _will_ get a drink first, though, right?” he says after a long, tense second of silence.

I nod and try my best not to smile too openly as I hear the sound of several natives releasing a held breath. Not a single person in the cantina bothers to hide the fact they’re intending to eavesdrop on this conversation, either, reminding me what it is I like about this world and its people. 

In another few seconds the broken glass has been swept off the table and the stranger has a new drink in his hand. And before I even get a chance to ask my first question he already dropped the coy act and he’s starting to volunteer all he seemed to be so intent on keeping to himself before I walked into the room.

“Name’s Mayfeld. And... okay, level with me – how do people around here feel about ex-imperials?”

“All I can tell you is how they feel about ex-imperials with a grudge against the people who were willing to let them burn alive,” I reply with a non-committal shrug. Letting a smirk slip onto my lips as I add, “They just adore me around here...”

That’s all it takes, apparently.

He starts talking. Starts talking and keeps talking and loses no one’s attention, not for moment, not until his story is a told. A peculiar story, to be fair. Just the idea he even knows a Mandalorian, even a single one of those so rare individuals from a world that is all but dead after the Empire came down on it, more ruthlessly than it did on most others it hoped to subjugate...

Yes, a strange, strange story. But does that make it any less true?

“So what do we think, Nixie...?” asks the elderly cantina owner the first chance she gets. As I join her by the bar after slipping away from the table, certain that Mayfeld, deep in conversation with several of the locals, will not note my absence.

A smile slips onto my face before I quite manage to say a word. Because for all that they once called me _Phoenix_ , for very obvious reasons and usually in a tone of respect that seemed somewhat hard to credit at times, they long since stopped using the full word. So much like these people, to start addressing me with what sounded so much like a term of endearment...

I came to this world as an enemy, as someone who didn’t care about what happened to it or its people – merely following orders, just as I always had before. If those orders didn’t leave me half-dead at the side of the road I might still have been following them today. Unquestioning. Loyal to those who thought me nothing but a cog in their machine, as replaceable as any other.

“Oh, he’s telling the truth,” I reply quickly, before my thoughts turn any bleaker. “He probably wishes he was making it up, it sounds so improbable. A rebel, two Mandalorians and an assassin all set to take on a Moff with his own private Star Destroyer and who knows how many soldiers behind him...? Sounds like a setup to a joke.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” smiles the old lady, glancing over at our new friend, still deep in conversation with the local men who seem to have taken to him quite a lot now that they knew he was the one who caused all that property damage to their imperial neighbours.

“And he so clearly doesn’t have a clue what to do next,” I add for good measure. Not that it needs saying.

“Do we have any suggestions? About what he should do next...?” asks the woman. Casually. Far too casually.

I take a moment to figure out what she’s implying before I groan.

“Who knows more about staying out of sight of imps than you do?” she says when she sees I’m about to start making excuses.

“Well, when you say it like that it certainly makes a lot of sense,” I admit. Before adding, in the next breath, “That doesn’t make it a good idea. You know how much time I spend alone.”

“I do. Why do you think I’m suggesting you take him with you when you go? What do I care about some sharpshooter I only met a few hours ago. It’s you I worry about, girl. All alone in all that green.”

“Let’s not act like I’m living in some kind of haunted forest,” I roll my eyes.

“If it wasn’t haunted before it surely must be now. With all the ghosts you brought with you.”

The words send a chill through me, even as her voice is as warm as ever, her eyes as kind as they always are. “How do you...” I say, the words coming out a little shaky.

“All soldiers have ghosts that never leave them. Occupational hazard with you lot, isn’t it? You have your ghosts – he does have a few of his own I wager,” she adds, gesturing in Mayfeld’s direction. “Tell me you don’t need someone like that around. Someone who might actually understand.”

I say nothing. For the longest time I just look at her, that so familiar face, every wrinkle on it speaking of hardship while her warm, brown eyes have nothing but kindness in them. And what the hell did I ever do to have kind people in my life...? People who meant well. People who really did worry about me all alone deep in the jungle, staying out of sight unless I was absolutely certain I could venture into town without any possibility of running into my former colleagues...

“I don’t know,” I say eventually.

But she knows me well enough to answer with only a smile. One that tells me she’s delighted to hear that. Because I might have said _I don’t know_ but that’s not what she heard in my words. What she hears is _Maybe you have a point_. Because, well, how do I know she doesn't?

“You think on it, girl,” she says, smiling softly. “He seems harmless enough if you ask me.”

I chuckle at that. Can’t help myself. “Harmless. Right. That’s why the refinery needs a new roof...”

She only shakes her head, chuckling herself as she picks up a glass and starts polishing it. Like the stereotypical barkeep she is – when she’s not busy being a well-meaning grandmother full of wisdom and sound advice.

I take a steadying breath before getting up and heading back to the table. Where Mayfeld is explaining, yet again, just how adorable the little green creature the Mandalorian seemed ready to go to war over was. “I’m talking crazy big, those ears. Cute little critter, he really was. But, you know... it was basically a toddler. As helpless as they come.”

“Good thing he has someone willing to go to these lengths to protect him then,” I comment as I slip back into my seat.

“Where did you get off to?”

The question catches me by surprise. Something about the way he says it, giving me the idea he was not happy about losing the sight of me. “Oh, I’ve just been talking about you behind your back,” I shrug. Earning a smile in reply. “Hey, you know how I said I might have intrusive personal questions?”

He makes a face but waits for me to ask.

“What do you plan on doing next? On a planet you don’t know anyone on, that will be crawling with imps again eventually...”

He just blinks a few times, making it very clear he’s been postponing figuring out that part. Which is about what I figured... “Why?” he says then, catching something in my expression. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I might.”

Which is all that needs saying. For better or worse it’s decided, right there and then. It’s unspoken but we both know – I’ll be leaving for my dark corner of the wilderness soon enough and I will _not_ be leaving alone.

Is that a good idea? Who the hell knows. Possibly. Then again what would I know about good ideas – I thought I wanted a carrier in the military.

We spend another rather pleasant hour sitting around with the locals over drinks before it becomes too late and they start heading home, one by one. With a crazy story to tell their families when the subject comes up. Which it will. There are a few subjects more popular than the imp operation down the road.

“Come along then,” I tell the ex-imperial who I’m apparently responsible for now. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, mock saluting as he gets to his feet.

“I mean... do you want me to change my mind and leave you to your own devices?”

“I do _not_ ,” he says rather emphatically.

“Yeah, no kidding,” I smirk. “You had no plan whatsoever, did you?”

“Was it that obvious?”

I don’t bother to reply, heading for the door instead. Last wave to the old lady behind the bar and then we’re out in the strange gloom of Morak, heavy with peculiar scents and disturbed by bioluminescence of the local plantlife.

He falls in step beside me, saying nothing for the longest time. We’re picking our way through the jungle with the lights of the town now barely visible far behind us before he speaks again. “Thank you,” he says simply. But there’s a seriousness behind the words, solemnity even. Acknowledgement of this huge and, let's face it, _unearned_ favour I'm doing for him.

And what can I say to that? Which of the obvious replies I can make myself speak out loud. Can I tell him that the likes of us, we ought to stick together...? He knows that. That’s why he’s following me into the green maze of the unfamiliar jungle without any reservations, certain that if there’s anyone he can trust it’s me.

“I mean it. This seems like a tough world to survive on. I will need help,” he adds, still in that serious tone that doesn’t sound like him at all.

“I will expect help in return.”

“You got it,” he nods.

“Then this might just work...”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I was pretty sure this was a standalone thing... even planned to take some time off from writing for a bit... so I picked up a book... 
> 
> ... unfortunately it was ALPHABET SQUADRON... not sure what I expected from it since I rarely bother with reading summaries before jumping into stuff - but I definitely didn't expect for it to star mid Operation Cinder... 
> 
> anyway, it left me with new appreciation for the subject and here's what I typed up as a consequence...

“Do I get to ask any? Impolite personal questions?”

The woman – Nix – smiles. Takes a sip from her drink and leans back, relaxing into her seat before saying, in a tone a lot less defensive than he expected, “Let’s not pretend you have more than one.”

He takes a moment before replying, glancing at a few of the locals that clearly like this imp. Consider her one of them, even. This person who stayed with her Imperial Remnant for years after Endor...

Whatever story she sold them it must have been really something. So yes, Mayfeld definitely wanted to hear it.

“Tell you what. I’ll spare you the bother of asking,” she says just as he opens his mouth to speak again. “I know what you want to know. I can tell when you realized it was time to part ways with the Empire. And believe it or not, I did realize it around the same time. We never took part in Cinder. We were never near a planet that would make for a target. That was the only reason my unit wasn’t called on to go out causing as much destruction as we could.”

There is a depth of emotion in her voice as she speaks, all of it making him wonder just how much of the story she’ll be able to put into words. Only moments ago he was certain there was nothing that could have justified not leaving as soon as it became clear what the Empire was. What it was so eager to become the second it could drop the pretence and act on the ruthlessness it so valued in its high officers.

No, there was nothing that could excuse those that stayed after becoming complicit to destruction on such an unthinkable scale. So why was he still here and willing to hear her out? Why this feeling he was not ready to hear whatever she had to say about those dark days...?

“They regretted that. So many of them were speaking of it as though we missed out on some unique opportunity to do one last thing for our Empire. This monstrous thing that finally showed itself for what it was – and they regretted every world they didn’t get to burn in its name. I thought I must have gone mad. That made more sense than me being the only sane person among so many. But... I wasn’t,” she says, taking a shaky breath and finishing her drink in one quick swallow. “There was my sister. She was no kin but you’ll never hear me call her anything else. She was the sister I should have had. And when I looked at her that day I knew we were thinking the same thing. She also didn’t know how much longer she could keep herself from screaming while standing in a room full of lunatics loudly regretting all the lives they didn't help end.”

There is a hush in the room he only notices as she pauses. The faces around him tell him they know this story. Some even look at him with something approaching dislike – for being the reason she has to relive it all, or so it seems.

Whatever it was that led her to stay and carry out her duties long after so many deserted these people believe she was right to do so. A sentiment he can’t begin to understand. Maybe he needs to hear the rest for that but Mayfeld simply can’t imagine there is anything at all she can say to make serving Morak’s Imperial Remnant seem like something she had no choice in. There was always a choice. There were many who died rather than serve the Empire for another moment.

“I know,” she says, perhaps reading something of is thoughts in his expression. “Desertion wasn’t the only way out. I knew that. Knew it as soon as out commander started talking about how regretful it was we weren’t able to participate in this operation that would be remembered for generations to come.”

He says nothing though agreement must be written all over his face.

“I was going to. I couldn’t just steal a ship, I had no idea how to fly one. But I did have my blaster and that seemed so much easier. Right then I was willing to do anything, anything at all to be able to stop listening to that insanity,” she says, glancing away, lost in memories for moment. Then, forcing herself back into the present, she adds, “She broke my finger taking that blaster off me.”

“Why?” he says before he can think better off it, too confused by the strange mix of emotions on her face not to ask.

“Because it was a way out but it wasn’t the one we were going to take. She said... My sister said...”

He words falter for a moment and then there’s a hand on her shoulder. A local man with a hollow face and eyes full of pity, reaching out to her with a gesture of comfort. Such a bizarre thing to be happening and yet everything about it seems so... genuine. The gratitude in the too-brief smile she replies to the touch with certainly is.

“She just wouldn’t let me. Told me that now that I knew what the Empire really was, now that I saw how it revelled in destruction, I couldn’t be the next thing they’ll cost this galaxy. If I was disgusted by them, if I regretted every decision that led me to this moment, then that meant I had to live. I _had to_. Even if we were the only ones aboard that felt that way. To her it was all the more reason why we had to stay alive. Bide our time. Get out alive... We wouldn’t give our lives to the Empire. She made me promise...” 

She goes on. Recounts past days in voice heavy with emotions he finds he can’t begin to understand. Because the truth is that if he was in her place with no other way out, he _would_ just use his blaster. Getting away from those bastards after they so proudly committed such atrocities was the only way to keep sane, that was something they were in complete agreement on. Having no immediate way out, having to wait for an opportunity to desert, even if it might never come – keeping that kind of hope alive for so long while hiding behind a mask of obedience...

Before Nix started telling her story he was certain there was nothing she could have said to make him change the opinion he had of her as soon as he saw identified her as an ex-imperial. And now? Now he found himself feeling something that could almost be awe. Because none of what she was telling him was a fabrication of a guilty mind twisting the truth out of shape. The darkness in her eyes was too real, too familiar to doubt. It hurt to say this, it tore open old wounds, but here she was forcing the words out no matter the pain. This was what happened. This was what she lived through in those five long years since Endor, when Empire so abruptly became Imperial Remnants, scattered and weakening – and still holding her in the same iron grip that offered no possibility of escape other than a blaster bolt.

 _She made me promise_ , she says, time and again. Words that must have been her mantra for a very long time. And it was a promise that meant something. That meant _everything_ , even now. She lived the life free of orders that once seemed an impossibility. It was hers now, after the long years of waiting. And all because someone made her promise not to take the easy way out...

“She was the strong one,” Nix says, a soft, pained smile on her lips just for a moment. “She knew what they needed to see if they weren’t to suspect us and that’s a exactly what she showed them. A mask. I had one too, but... Mine forever threatened to slip off. Looking back I can’t believe no one could tell.”

She gets lost in her own thoughts again then. Bitter memories of times now long gone. Hard times. Days and weeks that cost her – cost things she might never get back.

There was a price to survival. He paid his and, having heard this much Mayfeld now believed that so did she. Paid a price no one should have been asked to pay. And all to keep a promise...

“How long ago...?” he finds himself asking, wondering if the question will be enough to keep her from saying the words he was sure were coming. He runs his eyes over the ruined skin, as obvious as he can be, to make sure she knows what he’s talking about.

“Almost three years now. Wasn’t long after we got assigned to Morak. My sister was sure this place will be our chance and... Well, she wasn’t wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. Surprising himself by how much he means the words.

She nods, acknowledging what she hears in those so insufficient words. Accepting the unspoken condolences...

“You were on the road, weren’t you? They come out of nowhere sometimes and before you know there’s just... Fire. And that’s a way out too. I hoped... that day I really hoped...” she says, her voice faltering. It takes her a few seconds before she finds her voice again. “But I was fine. A little singed, that was all. And she was... There was nothing I could have done." 

If there is anything she might add, anything about the three years spent deep in Morak’s jungles, he didn’t need to know. What he needed – all that he’ll ever need to know about her – he already did, with those last few words.

He might have regained his conscience in the fires of Operation Cinder while all she ever needed was to hear about it and she was ready to end her service to the Empire’s warmachine by any means necessary. They were alike in ways no one on this planet could ever come close to understanding. They might have been survivors in their own ways, these natives – but they didn’t have to survive fires like those that made them. That made them _ex-imperial_ , made them shed a loyalty that once defined them to at least try to reclaim what humanity was left in them.

Looking at this phoenix of a woman Mayfeld couldn’t help but wonder how untroubled was her sleep. Whether it was her conscience or merely the memory of fire returning to her in nightmares that woke her in the night...

He might even dare to ask her. Someday. For all he knew he was staying on this humid, green world indefinitely and he had no idea the future might bring. But if he _was_ staying then he was going to try to stay near her. How could he not? All the things he defined himself as she was too. A soldier, a deserter, a survivor. 

"Another drink?" asks Nix in a tone that can almost pass for casual, even as her eyes are still too-dark and too full of memories. 

"You buying?" he asks, managing something like a normal tone himself. 

"Oh, what the hell," she sighs before gesturing to the elderly woman behind the bar. "We do have something to celebrate for once, after all." 

And just like that the tone of conversation shifts. What tension was there in the air while she spoke of the days when she was still a good little soldier is now gone, her words breaking it like a spell. The natives around the cantina lose the solemn expressions they wore while listening to her reminiscences and start smiling again, if hesitantly at first. After a minute or two and another drink even the fire-scarred ex-imp joins in, pushing the darkness within so she can enjoy what's left of the night. 

A survival skill, that. The ability to simply enjoy a moment. To stay in the now and not let what has come before tain it. 

It was still going to be there, of course. Always. There were always going to be nightmares, always some nights when sleep was just an unfulfilled promise. But Mayfeld wasn't going to let that certainty intrude on this moment. And going by the soft but obviously genuine smile on her lips neither was the woman across the table from him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will probably be the last chapter... I THINK... (then again I've been wrong before...)

“You know how there are days when I can just about take the way you never shut up...? Because it just stops short of annoying...” I say, glancing at the ex-imperial walking beside me. “Yeah, today is not one of those days.”

“Just trying to get to know you,” he says, trying to sound innocent. Which is almost funny, really.

“You’re prying,” I correct.

Mayfeld at least doesn’t deny that, since that _was_ exactly what he was doing. But then he was in a weird mood all day and if I didn’t know better I would have guessed he was trying to provoke a fight just to relieve some tension.

Maybe he had a nightmare last night. Because of course he had those. Less often than I would have guessed but they still happened. And I knew this not because he was willing to discuss his PTSD dreams with me but simply because of what I overheard. Because the man talked even in his sleep... “Look,” I sigh, “is there something you want to talk about...?”

“Really?” he grins.

“Well no, _not really_ ,” I reply, starting to really wonder what the hell am I doing here with this guy. He was less than ideal company on the best of days, got on my nerves constantly and for all that he listened to what I had to say about surviving on Morak because survival just happened to be his main priority, he still had his own ideas every now and then and more than once they just about stopped short of getting him killed. It was never on purpose, of course. He did enjoy being alive, that much was impossible to doubt. But why the hell did making sure he stays that way become my responsibility...? Wasn’t my life eventful enough already?

“The answer’s no, by the way. There’s nothing I want to talk about. I just... talk, you know? It’s kinda my thing.”

“Oh, _I know_ ,” I say, making a face.

He just chuckles. But then his expression turns serious. I only catch a glimpse from the corner of my eyes but it’s hard to doubt even so. There _is_ something he wants to talk about. Well, _needs_ , really. Or so it feels. And, dammit, that means I’m gonna have to ask...

“Look, whatever it is just tell me,” I say as casually as I can manage. Because now I’m the one prying and I’d really rather not be. He lets me not talk about whatever unpleasant memories cloud my mind on mornings after night spent plagued my nightmares. It seems only fair to return the favour. But as he said – he talks. It’s his thing. And if there’s something on his mind he’s better off getting it out in the open rather than wait for the thoughts to lose their grip on his mind as they must eventually. That would be my solution to nearly everything. Waiting things out because it can’t last forever, whatever it is. Nothing ever does, after all. But that could never work for him, I knew, and so here we were. And I was asking. Wondering if I will know the right thing to say to whatever it is that’s bothering him.

“It’s nothing. Really,” he assures me.

I nod and wait and eventually, after less than a minute elapses in silence, he’s talking again.

“It’s just that... I like this world. Not my kind of climate and some of the natives still creep me the hell out,” he says, making a face. I make no comment since his feelings on the road pirates are one of the things he keeps bringing up any chance he gets. “There are insects everywhere and I gotta say, not a fan of surviving on whatever we can forage for in the jungle and...”

“And you like it here,” I finish for him, getting the picture.

“Weirdly, yeah. I like this,” he says with the quick gesture, waving his hand in the space between us as we walk side by side. “Whatever this is it’s... good, right? I mean...”

“I haven’t smothered you in your sleep yet so... yes,” I say, unable to supress a smile. “Your point?”

“It’s just... hard not to be worried when life is good. That’s when you _really_ don’t want to lose it,” he says with a vague shrug. Not telling me what it is he’s worried about exactly because why would he...

“Is there someone who wants you dead,” I say, quirking an eyebrow. “Besides me I mean.”

“I mean... there’s the Mandalorian.”

“The... _Oh_ ,” I say, nodding as though what he just said made perfect sense. “The one who’s so focused on rescuing his kid he’s about to go against a Moff...? That Mandalorian? Who probably haven’t thought of you once since he and his squad left?”

“Yeah, but how long is it gonna take him to get his mission done? I know how much he’s willing to do to get that little critter back so I wouldn’t put it past him to have done that already. And once that’s taken care of...”

“Yes...?” I frown, not liking how his words trailed off.

“I just... It’s entirely possible he might feel like he has some unfinished business with me,” shrugs Mayfeld. Trying to sound unconcerned – but the way he doesn’t meet my eyes tells a different story.

“You think he’s... What, gonna come back to kill you? After he agreed to let you go?” I say, wondering if I’m getting this right. But I definitely am. Because as irrational as his worry seems to me, he _is_ worried.

“Yeah but... he was probably just going along with what his girlfriend was saying. Which I get. All wrapped up in beskar or not, it’s probably a pretty bad idea to upset _Marshall Dune_.”

I sigh, struggling to come up with anything to say to that. Maybe he believes what he’s telling me, maybe he doesn’t. He could be saying it out loud just to hear how absurd it all sounds and that might be all it takes for him to snap out of this weird mood. Because it _does_ sound just a little paranoid. I never heard him worry about return of the improbable group of highly skilled fighters that left him here. Could I have missed something like that? Considering how little time we managed to spend apart since our first meeting in a cantina some weeks back I doubted that was a real possibility. No, he wasn’t stealing glances at the sky, expecting the ship that left without him to once again appear above the jungle. But he _was_ worried about it now...

“Say that does happen,” I start, unable to let the conversation end there.

“It might. They do take it pretty seriously, you know. Hiding their faces...” he says, shoulders sagging and voice sounding strangely hollow all of a sudden. “Once he gets his kid back, well... They have this thing about honor.”

“ _Everybody_ has a thing about honor,” I interrupt. “It’s not unique to the Mandalorians.”

He takes a moment but in the end finds there is nothing much he can say to that. It’s not like I’m wrong...

“Well, if you’re right – and for the record I do _not_ think you are,” I say, earning just a hint of a smile for the way I say it, “We’ll just deal with it. _If_ it becomes a problem. Which it won’t. Obviously. You’re just being paranoid.”

“I am _not_ ,” he insists.

“Sure.”

“You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone, Nixie. One of these days I won’t come back from the hunt because I’ve been disintegrated and then you’re gonna be sorry...”

I am so busy rolling my eyes that I don’t even remind him how I feel about him calling me that. Or point out I would never let him go hunting alone – that is to say without adult supervision. Without a weapon his best chance of taking down any of the local creatures is by talking at them for so long they lose the will to live.

“Is there anything at all I can say to make you feel stop brooding over a non-existent threat?” I wonder out loud.

“Don’t think there is. If anything you’ll just make it worse.”

“Thanks,” I chuckle.

“What I mean is... Oh, hell, Nix – why do you think I’m worried?”

There is something that stops short of an accusation behind those words. And just like that I know what he means. And I know what to say to him, too.

“Well then I’m sorry. I mean it. If I knew I was making your life something you _really_ want to hang onto...”

And now it’s him that’s rolling his eyes and it’s pretty much official. This can no longer be a serious conversation. For all that we’re saying things we mean, things there really is no denying, that doesn’t make this one of those emotionally heavy talks that make one feel uncomfortably in touch with their feelings. “Apology not accepted,” says Mayfeld but in a light tone that makes me feel like I definitely did something to lessen his worries. If not make them go away altogether.

“Oh don’t be like that,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder. “Do I have to start worrying about how can I make up for that? Making life on Morak a whole lot less pleasant, maybe...?”

He actually laughs at that. And that’s it, really, we’re out of the woods. Metaphorically speaking, anyway. Literally speaking we’re never leaving the safety the green canopy above grants us. But that’s not really a bad thing.

It’s all about the company you keep, at the end of the day. Even the most barren, dangerous world in the galaxy can be survived – all you need are the right people at your side. And even if at times he makes me doubt it today is one of the days when I’m absolutely certain that is exactly what I have.


End file.
